Harry Potter and the Veil of Memories
by superguy
Summary: Students go their separate ways for the Holidays. Harry and Ron struggle with their friendship while Draco fights to impress Hermione's father. The Dark Lord continues to draw closer.
1. Lucid Nightmares

Harry Potter

and the

Veil of Memories

Author's Note: _This is the sequel to my fanfiction _Harry Potter and the New Alliance, _for all the fans who wished for a sequel. I've had plans to write this story for a while, and I'm excited to finally get the chance to put fingers to keyboard and write this. It took a lot of determination to keep with _The New Alliance_ and not jump ahead in the story. I thought for a while that all of this was going to make it in one volume, but I realized that the story was so dramatic that it would take at least two volumes to bring to the page. So, here is the second part of my Harry Potter fanfiction. While _The New Alliance_ focused a lot on relationships, they are now established and I can move on towards the emotional aspect of my writing and focus on what makes the characters tick. In the tradition of its predecessor, _The Veil of Memories _will cycle through many of the characters, but will focus on Harry and Draco the most. If you haven't read _The New Alliance_, please do so. You won't have to read it to know what's going on, but it will give you a lot of background information on my versions of the characters. Now, I believe I've talked long enough, so without further ado, _Harry Potter and the Veil of Memories.

_superguy_

Chapter One:

Lucid Nightmares

_This chapter is for Jen. How blessed I am to know you. _

It was a calm night. The moon hung lazily in the air amidst the surrounding clouds. Everything in the sky was bathed in a deep blue that added a touch of cold to the atmosphere. Passersby heading home from work noted the sky with fascination because of what they saw lingering in it. Specks of white and gray seemed to flutter against the light that was emanating from the moon. One man who was carrying a briefcase and newspaper remarked that they appeared to be bats. It was strange because bats had never been seen before in the area. But a woman who passed by him shook her head as she spoke on her cell phone.

It wasn't until the news that people realized that the specks they'd been seeing were in fact owls. The activity of them had increased within the passing of the week and now sightings were becoming more frequent. One or two had even been seen during the day. One Kindergarten student even told a teacher that she had seen a box in one of the bird's talons, but the teacher had brushed it off as a fantasy and suggested that the child write a story about it to read to the class.

Muggles in the surrounding area were none the less muddled by the activity of the birds, but the Wizards who walked the streets in "ordinary" clothing knew better. The Dark Lord had killed again. The Longbottoms, esteemed members of the Order of the Phoenix, had been maimed openly. This created a surge in owl post and many wizards even broke the rule and sent messages during the day – which had been forbidden by the Ministry of Magic.

On a quiet street lit comfortingly by street lamps, a Wizarding family sought refuge in their home. It seemed an ordinary house to most. The mailbox at the end of the drive, the fancy parlor windows with net curtains. But, the inhabitants of the house were anything but ordinary. They were the Potters.

Lilly Potter stood in the kitchen of her home, curtains drawn, with her want in hand. She had been slaving over her cooking, searching for something to occupy her mind. She had cycled through at least three of her mother's recipes, from cookies to snapping Welsh stew. That one had been much loved by her father. But, these attempts were in vain because she found herself still upset that her husband wasn't home.

James had volunteered to go and help with the recovery of the Longbottoms. This was something Lilly had advised - pleaded him not to take part in, but he had insisted. Behind his round spectacles, he gave her a reassuring smile.

"I'll be home soon, hon. Don't you worry a thing. Cook something good for dinner."

And with that, he had left the house around twelve in the afternoon. It was now six in the evening.

Lilly sighed as she started pacing the kitchen, wand twisting in her fingers. She had magicked the mop so that it would clean up the flower she'd used on the gingerbread cookies. Those were James' favorite. Looking at them reminded her of him and she had to stop.

"Stop being stupid, Lilly," she muttered under her breath. Talking to herself seemed to soften the severity of the anxiety inside her stomach, and she took one of the gingerbread men off the tray and looked at it. "James is fine. He's with Dumbledore and nothing bad will happen when Dumbledore's around."

With that said, she bit into the head of the cookie, decapitating it. Chewing the soft dough, she had to smile. _Not bad, if I do say so myself_. Rarely did she get the spell for cooking the wonderful cookies just right. It seemed she had succeeded. Or she'd just lucked out with that one cookie.

Suddenly the sound of the front door floated down the hall and she found herself rushing to see who it was. What if it was someone bringing news -

But she saw the long jacket and hat and gave a cry of relief when James turned to meet her. She flung her arms around him and held him, overjoyed that he had made it home in one piece.

James seemed a bit surprised by her burst of affection and took a second before he returned the embrace.

"Hey - what's this for?" he asked with a grin as he stroked her fine red hair.

She nestled her cheek against his chest as she replied. "I was so worried you wouldn't make it home."

James chuckled. "Told you I would. Did you make me something good for dinner, then?"

He started following the scent of the cookies and grinned as he saw the tray with them stacked merrily on top. Taking one, he took a bite quickly and smiled.

"Not bad, I suppose," he muttered with some still in his cheek. Lilly gave him a mock frown.

"Not bad?" she said as she leaned against the counter.

"No…delicious, actually."

Lilly smiled as she started over to the stove. She used this only when she needed to - magic was much easier. The stew was in the old fashioned cast iron and the scent of the sweet and sour stew wafted into the air as she took it out, hurrying to the island in the middle of the kitchen to relieve her hands of the heat.

"Is that snapping Welsh stew?" James asked as he walked up behind her, circling his arms around her stomach from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

Lilly nodded.

"Of course. Hope you're hungry. Slaved all day."

"I _am _hungry, actually. It's been a long day."

This brought up the subject of what he'd done while he was away.

Lilly started the conversation.

"How was…it?"

James backed off, leaning against the sink as he ate the rest of his cookie.

"A little disheartening, I think."

Lilly busied herself with taking bowls out of the cupboard. Placing them on the counter beside the pot with the stew, she brushed her hair out of her eyes. "That bad? Are the Longbottoms all right?"

James shrugged.

"Depends on you definition of all right."

"Are they alive?" she specified as she started dishing stew into the first bowl. The meats and vegetables floated in the brown broth and she could see James' reflection in it. He nodded.

"Yeah, they're alive. Whatever consolation that is to their family."

Finishing with the stew, Lilly turned to him and handed him the bowl.

"Are they going to be okay?"

"Not really," James said as he stared at the stew, circling his spoon through the thickness of it. "They've been sent to Saint Mungo's. They can't really do anything. Their memories were so badly erased that they're little more than shells…of their former selves."

Lilly had to blink away the tears in her eyes. She wanted to appear strong for James. After all, he probably cried a lot when he saw them. They were really close, the Longbottoms. And now they were gone.

"Was Remus there?"

James nodded as he swallowed some of the hot stew.

"Yeah. Felt really bad. Offered to go to the Longbottom's home and break the news. Their son's probably going to have a hard time. Neville…"

Lilly sighed as she too started eating the stew.

"I feel really awful, James…" she muttered into her bowl as she stared at it. "How are they going to cope?"

James shrugged. "Beats me. I'm just glad it's not us…if that doesn't sound too cynical."

Lilly was about to give James a hug when a cry was heard from upstairs.

Setting down her bowl, Lilly started towards the staircase.

"That's Harry. Probably had another nightmare."

James watched as his wife started up the stairs. He stood at the foot of them as he talked up to her.

"That what's been waking him up lately?"

Lilly's voice came from inside Harry's nursery.

"I think so. Can't think of anything else."

James shrugged. "Do infants even dream?"

Lilly appeared at the top of the stairs with the now cooing Harry in her arms. She stared down into his tiny face with warmth as she rocked him.

"Why wouldn't they?" she asked as she started down the stairs.

"I don't know," James replied as he finished his stew.

Lilly continued to talk to Harry in a motherly tone. "There, there, Harry. It's okay. Mummy's here. Mummy'll make those nasty monsters go away."

"Monsters now?"

Lilly smiled.

"Well, what else can it be?"

Suddenly a loud knock was heard from the front door. James stopped and motioned for Lilly to hush.

Quickly and with a mere whisper, he ushered her towards the stairs.

"Hurry, upstairs. Don't make any noise."

"But, James, wha -"

"Just do it," he said as she started up the stairs. "And stay quiet, whatever you hear."

When he was sure Lilly was safely tucked away upstairs, he started for the door. He never so much as touched the doorknob because just then the oak door was blasted into splinters and three cloaked wizards stepped into the front hall.

Lilly heard the sound of smashing coming from beneath her as she sat in the corner behind Harry's crib. James was yelling. Then she heard a voice that she didn't recognize and the sound of an explosion followed by a sickening thud.

Then everything went quiet.

Slowly, she got to her feet, hoping with all her might that Harry wouldn't begin to cry. He was nestled against her breast, hand in his mouth as he slept. She listened intently as she started for the door. But the sound of feet coming up the stairs froze her.

Before she could do anything, the doorknob to the nursery began to turn. The squeak of metal against metal rang in her ears as the door slowly creaked open.

When she saw who was behind the door, her breath was snatched from her lungs.

"Lillian," the snakelike voice of Lord Voldemort sneered as he stepped across the threshold towards her, wand out. Two men in cloaks and hoods stood in the hallway behind him, with wands also out.

In an instant of heroism, Lillian cried out.

"Please let my son go! He isn't nearly two and is no harm to you -"

But Voldemort muttered something under he breath and a jet of white air shot out of his wand, wrapping around her neck. She cried out as she clutched Harry to her chest, hearing him wail as they were dragged across the floor and out into the hallway.

"Wh - what are you doing?" Lilly managed to choke out as Volemort ushered them towards the stairs.

With a chuckle, the wizard replied. "I want you to see what has become of your husband before I kill you."

"NO!" she choked out as she was forced down the stairs.

She couldn't bear to see James dead. That would take away all of her strength and will power to live. But Voldemort was not merciful.

Every step she was forced to take down the stairs revealed more and more of the destruction that was done to her home. Pictures were shattered on the floor, which was covered in pieces of sheet rock and splintered wood. Glass was everywhere.

Then, as they turned the corner into the hallway, she saw him.

"JAMES!" she screamed as she saw his crumpled body. He was lying on the floor, blood coming from his mouth and nose as though he had been punched savagely in the gut. His hands tore against the floor, ripping up the carpet beneath his nails. His glasses were crushed beside him where Voldemort had stepped on them.

Voldemort ushered her forward and made her kneel before the man she had once loved.

"See what you have become?" he sneered. "You should have joined me when you had the chance. Oh, but don't cry. You'll soon be joining him."

Through the hot tears that were cascading down her cheeks, Lillian sobbed. "Please…please don't kill my son. He's all I have left. Don't kill Harry."

But Voldemort ripped the screaming boy from her arms and pressed the tip of his wand to her right temple. Then in one fowl instant, he muttered the curse that killed her.

Laughter rang through the hallway as her body fell limply to the floor beside that of her husband. All the while Harry screamed for his mother, reaching out for her but not finding.

Then, Voldemort turned the child towards him, holding him by the neck.

"Now, boy, it's your turn."

He pointed his wand at the child's forehead.

"Soon people will learn that there's no escape. I will rule everything or anyone in my way will perish as your family has."

With a grin, he set the child down on the floor between his dead parents. The boy saw his mother's hair and tried to crawl to her. But Voldemort chuckled.

"She's dead. And you are too."

Muttering the curse, he shot a line of green light at the boy. But something happened. The light hit the child's forehead and seemed to bounce back in an instant.

"WHA -" Voldemort cried out as the light hit him in the chest, blasting the air from his lungs as he crumpled to the floor.

The two Death Eaters who had followed him fled quickly as they watched their master fall helpless to the floor. A jet of white light seeped out of the back of the dark Lord and collected just below the light fixture of the hallway. It was Voldemort's soul, fleeing the scene of the crime. A mere child had taken him down, and his body was completely useless.

Harry was now left alone.

Mustering all of his strength, the infant crawled over to the open cupboard under the stairs and sat inside, hiding from the chaos that had made its home in his house until Hagrid the Giant would arrive.

In the Burrow on the fifth floor, Harry Potter awoke with a scream that pierced the night.


	2. Lukewarm Greetings

Chapter Two:

Lukewarm Greetings

_This chapter is for Kim. If we don't work together someday, I'll be damned._

Draco's stomach was churning from the moment he stepped off the scarlet Hogwarts Express till the second he spotted them.

The suitcases that he and Hermione had packed proved to be more difficult to handle without the aid of magic. After a few minutes of playing the gentleman, Draco heaved each of the four suitcases onto a free trolley and wheeled them over to his group of friends.

Hermione smiles when she saw him sweat beading on his brow.

"Not too much trouble, huh?" she shot to him over the buzzing of the platform. Draco grinned.

"Piece of cake." he replied as he folded his arms atop the trolley.

After a moment of waiting in silence, Hermione looked towards the brick wall before them, cloaking the muggles who scurried around Kings Cross Station.

"You ready?" she asked, her eyes darting back and forth to Draco's.

Draco nodded and prepared to push the trolley forward. Hermione stepped ahead of him and held out her hand to the wall as if she were going to lean against it. But as her hand touched the apparently solid bricks, they rippled out as if made of liquid and her hand sank into the wall.

"Well," she started as she looked over her shoulder at Draco. "See you on the other side."

With that, she stepped forward, becoming completely enveloped by the wall.

Now alone, Draco let out a sigh. This was it. As of now his life was about to change. He no longer had the glamour of his father's mansion to return home to and fears settled like a pool in his stomach. Fears about the world he was stepping into.

He knew perfectly well that Hermione's parents were muggles. This didn't bother him at all - people were people even though he had pretended to have a prejudice towards them when under his father's rule. But, the fact that he was going to be living in an all-muggle community was a bit daunting. How he could adapt was as big a mystery to him as what Hermione's parents would be like. He'd never met them before - except for the time his father had insulted them inside Flourish and Blotts.

Mustering up his courage, he pushed the trolley forward, having waited long enough to cross over. Gaining speed, he shoved the trolley into the liquefied wall and through to Kings Cross Station.

* * *

Draco showed up behind Hermione as she searched the crowds of people for her parents. She's been sure she'd sent them an owl telling them the time to be at the station. They were probably already there, just hidden among the throngs of trolleys being pushed by people.

Draco abandoned their trolley to stand beside her. His hand slid beside hers and she took it, lacing their fingers together. With a start she felt how cold his hands were. It was as though a glove of ice had been slipped on his smooth skin.

"You nervous?" she asked as she gave his hand a squeeze. He squeezed back, but his nerves were very much alive. He'd never been so anxious - not even before his first Quidditch game.

"Yeah," he muttered under his breath as Hermione looked up at him. "Yeah, I'm nervous."

Hermione smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek. This settled his stomach a bit.

"Don't worry," she said reassuringly. "I'm sure my parents will love you."

Draco highly doubted this. He was sure they had heard all about him in the past. Sure they knew how terrible he had been. Sure they remembered how cruel he had been to their daughter. Now he felt ashamed more than ever for how he had treated Hermione in the past. Everything rushed back to his memory like a tide coming in, overwhelming. The blood slowly drained from his face and he felt dizzy.

"Draco, relax," Hermione said as she noticed his face. "You're really pale."

Putting his hands up to his cheeks, he rubbed them. Maybe that would bring some color back to them.

"Oh - look!" Hermione started in an excited tone. "There they are!"

Draco's head turned towards where she was pointing and felt his stomach shift. Oh man, this was it. The moment of truth…

Hermione waved to her parents in the crowd of people. Draco couldn't tell which ones they were, but they were somewhere in the crowd moving towards them.

Rushing ahead, Hermione opened her arms and leaped into an embrace with a tall man. The man let out a laugh very deep a baritone. As they hugged, he lifted her off the ground because of his tremendous height.

Finally parting, Hermione was set back on the ground as the woman with tied-back hair bushy hair standing beside the man hurried forward. Her face resembled that of Hermione's and her smile was warm as she embraced her daughter.

"Oh, Hermione!" her mother started. After a few moments, they parted to look at each other. "We've missed you so much! It seems like forever since September!"

Hermione smiled. "I'm just glad we have vacation for a while."

"So, how've you been, young lady?" her father asked with a grin. "Failing all your classes?"

This coaxed a laugh out of Hermione as she gave her father a playful shove.

"No, I'm doing fine in everything."

"Good. That's what I like to hear."

The picture of the family moved something deep inside Draco, an emotion he had never felt. This was the way he had always imagined coming home from school - daydreamed, actually. His own mother never hugged him out in the open and his father…well…that was another lost cause. They showed the least bit of compassion towards him. But if it was someone signing on with the dark side of the Ministry, his father would be all happy and chummy-chummy. When Draco got terrific grades, it was just a nod and a shove away.

Draco was rushed back to reality when he heard more of the conversation, taking place not ten feet in front of him. Hermione was smiling broadly.

"Mum, dad…I want you to meet someone."

Her father, Mr. Granger, smiled and started. "I thought we'd met all of your friends."

"No…this is someone new."

"Oh, Hermione! Is it a -" Mrs. Granger leaned forward to whisper this into Hermione's ear, but Draco could guess what it was, "_boyfriend_?"

Hermione chuckled.

"Actually, yes."

"My daughter and another boy?" Mr. Granger started, with a grin. "Never thought I'd see the day. Come on, who's the lucky bachelor?"

Hermione seemed to be stalling for time, but the time ran out and she had to point over through the throngs of people towards Draco. He felt his stomach sink as their eyes came to rest on him.

"He's over there."

Mrs. Granger didn't see him. She was still looking through the crowds.

"Who? Where?"

Mr. Granger pointed to Draco. "Him. Well, call him over here, Hermione. The poor boy looks like he's seen a ghost or something."

With that issued, Hermione motioned for Draco to start walking towards them. He did, pushing the trolley slowly ahead of him. His legs seemed to have turned into a thick jelly.

That walk was the longest walk he'd ever taken. It seemed like forever before he finally pushed the trolley to a stop beside the group. When Hermione's parents finally got a good look at him, Mr. Granger held out his hand.

"Well, lucky bachelor, nice to meet you…ah…what was your name?"

Draco avoided their eyes.

"Draco…Draco Malfoy."

Mr. Granger stopped, letting his hand drop back to his side as he heard the name. Mrs. Granger looked up at her husband with a questioning stare.

"What? Did you say…Draco _Malfoy_?"

Hermione looked into her father's eyes and nodded. Draco looked really out of place, so she stepped beside him and took his hand.

"Yeah…this is Draco. We've been going out for about a month now."

Mr. Granger seemed really confused.

"Malfoy…isn't that the name of that man who called us…"

"Yes - isn't it that man who worked for the Ministry of Magic and threatened Harry?" Mrs. Granger cut in, looking back and forth from Draco to Hermione. They seemed in a state of disbelief.

"Draco and I…have gotten to know each other over the past semester…" Hermione tried to start, but her voice was lost in the drum of the station.

"You're that little punk." Mr. Granger stated bluntly. "The one you've told us all about. The one with the dirty mouth."

Draco stepped back.

"You know what, Hermione," he started as he reached for his suitcase off the trolley. "I'm just going to find somewhere else to go. I think this was a mistake -"

"No, Draco -"

Mrs. Granger stepped in.

"Wait a minute, dear," she began, putting a hand on Draco's arm. Turning to her husband, she tried to calm him. "Honey, give them a minute to explain."

"Explain what? How they've turned from enemies to a couple in a matter of a month?"

"Dear…please…Hermione, you can continue before your father interrupts again."

Hermione smiled, though it seemed half-hearted.

"As I was saying," she started. "Draco and I have become friends and gotten over our…differences. Oh, this sounds really corny…but we wanted to date for a while. I said yes, and that's that. There's really not that much to tell."

"How come you didn't tell us all this in an owl?" Mr. Granger cut in.

"Because…" Hermione began. "I was a little embarrassed."

"As you should be. I cannot believe you agreed to _go out_ with this - this - punk!"

"Dad, please stop calling him that."

"Well, that's what he is. Isn't he? Or have you changed your mind after five years of knowing him?"

"Dad - stop!" Hermione said with a loud voice almost a yell. This caught the attention of many people and caused Mr. Granger to waved them away apologetically. He looked back at Hermione, prepared to listen. "Thank-you! Now, I was going to tell you what's going on."

"What's going on? Hermione," Mrs. Granger started in a twittering voice. "You two haven't -"

"No - Mum! Just listen for a minute!"

They all stopped as Hermione began again for what seemed like the hundredth time. Draco was really uncomfortable as he just stood there. This was perhaps the most awkward thing that he'd ever done in his entire life. And it was almost exactly what he had expected from the two parents.

Hermione gave his hand a squeeze and tried to explain. Mr. Granger seemed repulsed.

"Draco and I have been going out for about a month," the explanation began. "We really like each other, and it's been going fine. But, Draco's father kind of…kicked him out of the house, so he can't go home for Christmas. I was wondering if…"

"Oh, no Hermione. No, no, no." Mr. Granger started, bringing his hand up to his face to massage the bridge of his nose. "Please be joking. This is all a joke, right?"

"No, Dad, it's not a joke. Mum, please. I was wondering if you'd be…willing to take Draco in for a week and let him spend the Holidays with us."

"Out of the question!" Mr. Granger said with an air of finality in his voice, turning and walking off. This left Hermione and her mother alone with Draco.

"Oh, Hermione…" Mrs. Granger started, a sympathetic look on her face. Her cheeks were flushed and she glanced from Draco to Hermione in equal intervals. "You can't be serious…"

"I am," Hermione said with sincerity in her tone. "Mum, please. Can't you make Dad see reason? Draco's got no place to stay!"

"What about the school?"

"Do you really think the school is that much fun, when you aren't getting presents from family because they've disowned you?"

"Disowned? What are you -"

"Mum, Draco's parents disowned Draco because he wanted to go out with me. If that says anything to you about how serious we are."

Mrs. Granger let this sink in, looking down at the floor as she tried to process it.

"You're really serious?"

Hermione nodded.

"You really want to bring this…this boy home with us?"

Hermione nodded again. "Oh, please, Mummy! He's not what you think at all! I mean, look at him!"

Draco jumped as Mrs. Granger and Hermione both stared heavily at him. Mrs. Granger seemed to be sizing him up, trying to make her own opinion devoid of the preconceptions she'd received from her daughter's stories over the years.

"Well," she started after a minute or two. "I suppose he can come home with us. But, it's just a week. There won't be any summer escapades, right?"

Hermione shook her head.

"I'm sure Draco will have a place to stay until then."

Mrs. Granger nodded and started over to the bags they had piled on top of the trolley.

"Well then, get your things. We have to get to the car. Traffic is deadly this time of day. Want to beat rush hour."

"But," Hermione interjected. "What about Dad?"

Mrs. Granger stopped and looked up at her daughter.

"I have my ways, dear."

And with a grin, she started walking towards her husband, bags beneath her arms with Draco and Hermione trailing closely behind.


	3. Weasley's Joke Shop

Chapter Three:

_Weasley's Joke Shop_

Harry Potter sat awake, knees pulled up to his chin as he shivered. The tremors that ripped spasmodically through his body weren't due to a cold temperature, rather to the fear that was coursing through is veins and attacking his mind. Fingers ran through tousled bangs and hands collected locks of hair, holding tight as if in attempts to be absolutely sure he was actually real.

The nightmare had been terrifying. There was ultimately no other way to describe it. Perhaps the next closest thing would be "petrifying," but Harry was relieved to find that he wasn't stone, so he settled with terrifying.

Lambent orange walls washed into view around him and the Quidditch players zooming excitedly around within the confines of the Chudley Cannons posters smiled brilliantly back at Harry, unaware of how awful he was feeling. Echoing screams his mother once yelled caught in his ears and he wanted to blot them out. He didn't have many memories of his parents, but hearing them cry out as they were murdered by the Dark Lord was not a memory he wanted to cherish.

He felt alone. Even though he could hear the steady snores of Ron in the bed beside his sleeping bag, Harry felt like he was the only person in the world. Chattering cricket calls floated in through the open window spilling midnight air, adding to the hopeless feeling.

"Mom…" escaped Harry's lips, and he ran his hands through his hair once again. "Why do you keep haunting me?"

It'd been sixteen years since Harry had been born, and over that enormous course of time he'd learned to let the feelings of emptiness where his parents had been disintegrate. Occasionally things would fill in the gap in his soul, like a good game of Quidditch or the beaming pride that Mrs. Weasley showed at the beginning of every summer holiday. But these didn't last for long.

Getting to his feet, Harry stretched his hands above his head as a yawn ripped through his lungs, up to his mouth where it escaped with a touch of voice that always came along with it. It was the typical yawn, loud enough to be heard throughout the room. And for a moment, Ron's snores faltered. Harry's body stiffened in silence as he waited for Ron to either awake or get angry, or continue to sleep.

The latter happened, and Harry was once again left with his thoughts as company. He had decided long before that this was not the most healthy or entertaining thing to be in the company of. Often his mind would race with ludicrous worrying that would amount to nothing. Always he was left with that feeling of dread in his stomach, reminiscent of when he forgot to do four classes homework and had to face the Professors who assigned them in a few hours.

Harry had been under the impression that the Christmas Holiday would be an exciting and warming event at Ron Weasley's house, the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley's twinkling eyes and broad smile had softened the feelings of hurt that had been within Harry at the end of first term. A parade of home-cooked meals had followed as well as the camaraderie that Harry and the Weasley brothers shared. Bill had been extremely pleased to see Harry sitting beside him at the table and Charlie was keen to tell Harry all about the happenings in the Wizarding world that he was oblivious to or unable to hear about.

But with the intensity of the nightmare, all those feelings of warmth seeped away like water through a strainer. It appeared this couldn't be helped.

What was he still doing awake?

_I can't go back to sleep_, he thought angrily to himself. It was like a double-edged sword. If he went to sleep, the nightmares could return unexpectedly. If he remained awake, he would be stuck with his thoughts, which he wasn't particularly enjoying at the moment.

"What the bloody _Hell_…"

Picking up his opened sleeping bag by one of its edges, Harry walked closer to Ron's bed. He had been quite a few feet away from his sleeping friend before, but now he didn't feel he could sleep without being close to somebody.

Pulling the thick sleeping bag over, he laid it out right beside Ron's bed. Normally he would have felt weird doing this (not to mention how Ron would react when he awoke in the morning,) but, Harry didn't care about that right now. All he cared about was being closer to someone and falling asleep.

Settling down, he stared up at the white ceiling. Slowly his eyelids felt heavier and heavier, and before long, he fell fast asleep, slipping into the world of dreams without another nightmare for the night.

* * *

When Ron Weasley awoke, he stretched his arms over his head, his fingertips brushing the ceiling that sloped down over his headboard. The Chudley Cannons players, who were zooming around the poster that was spellotaped there, made shocked faces as Ron's fingers raked up and down the slope, coming back atop his messy hair that stuck up at odd angles.

It was to his amusement and startle that he found Harry lying on a sleeping bag shoved up against his bed, still asleep and snoring slightly. A bit shocking to Ron because when he had fallen asleep, Harry had been halfway across the room, he had to swing his legs over the side of the bed and jump over his slumbering friend.

Thoughts formed into questions as he pulled off his pajamas and searched his large and rather cluttered closet for clothing.

_Well, that was a surprise_, Ron thought as he shoved a bunch of orange robes aside. He wore those only when he was rooting for the Cannons on his Enchantavision – the Wizard equivalent to a Television in the Muggle world. It seemed just the night before, Harry had been keen on keeping his distance from the boy who he had wronged not three days before. Now, it seemed he was right on his feet practically.

_Not that I'm complaining…_

Selecting a nice pair of faded blue robes with white lining, Ron shoved his pants off and slipped into the worn silk hand-me-downs and quickly shrugged into the long folds of the lengthened shirt and jacket. He felt safer wearing more than pajamas around his best friend. For some strange reason, he didn't feel comfortable wearing practically nothing around Harry…even though they lived with each other every day of the year – excluding summer holidays.

He felt weird like that all of a sudden. It hadn't appeared within him before, but now that he was older, he was more self-conscious. Having grown a bit since the summer, he had to get newer robes soon or else he would be exposing half his calves. Hermione had done a lengthening charm on them before he left for the holidays as a gift, but that would only last so long.

Tying the robes up in the front, Ron glanced down at Harry. His hand was up near his face, tucked beneath his chin. Hair stuck up at all ends and his eyes were closed. He actually looked peaceful for once. It had been too long, in Ron's opinion.

Regret shaped in his mind as he realized he'd have to wake Harry if they were going to go through with their day plans. They were exciting, to say the least. But still he was loath to wake his serene friend.

"Hey," he started softly, trying to make the transition from dreams to reality smoother. "Harry…"

He crouched to his knees and rested a hand on Harry's shoulder, nudging him slightly. Watching, Harry squeezed his eyes shut before they slid open. Immediately, reddened hands formed into fists shot up to his face and massaged the sleep away.

"…Ron…" he started, sitting up. Ron's hand was still on Harry's shoulder, and when the groggy boy acknowledged it, Ron pulled it back, feeling his cheeks tinge. "Morning already?"

"Yeah…" Ron said with a smile. "Gotta get up if we're going to go to Fred and George's."

Harry immediately shot out of his sleep mode and was awake.

"Oh yeah! We're going to the –"

"Ssh! Harry!" Ron shushed with a grin. "Mum can't know about it!"

"Oh…" Harry trailed off, shoving the sleeping bag off his lap. His pajamas were clinging to his sweat-covered body and he ran his hands over them to get them unstuck. "Right."

It didn't take long for the two boys to get ready and sneak off down the hallway to the bathroom to brush their teeth, comb their ridiculous hair and make sure they smelled good enough to go out.

Almost impossible though it was, Harry and Ron managed to sneak by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom while they were still asleep and make it to the grate of the fireplace where a loop of iron supported the flower pot of Floo Powder.

Taking a large handful, Ron motioned for Harry to step in.

"Best if we do it at once, so that Mum doesn't notice the Floo Powder's too less."

Harry nodded, and stepped ahead Ron into the fireplace. Ron grinned as he stepped into the grate beside his excited friend. He noticed it when Harry bumped up against him in the tight confines of the fireplace. Holding the hand of powder out, he cleared his throat.

"_Diagon Alley_!"

In an eruption of emerald flames, Harry and Ron were engulfed and shot upwards into the fireplace and into the Floo Network. Dozens of grates flew past within the first second and the boys' once neat hair messed instantly in the wind that funneled around them. Laughter escaped Harry's throat as they zoomed down another set of grates. It was an experience he'd always enjoyed. In a way, shooting through fireplaces made up for all the amusement parks that the Dursley's had left him home from.

After a few moments, Ron held out his foot and another blast of green flames engulfed them. When the flames subsided, Ron and Harry had stepped out of the large fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron inn and pub. Nice dim lanterns lining the walls cast a golden glow over the comfy red leather chairs and the quaint woodwork that adorned almost everything. Adding to that the smoke of dozens of pipes and bubbling cauldrons behind the counter, Ron decided it was perhaps his favorite place in Diagon Alley to visit. But after today, perhaps it would be his _second _favorite place to visit.

"Ready?" Ron asked. Harry nodded. "Alright. Let's go."

Fred Weasley brushed his now lengthening ginger hair out of his eyes as he glanced towards the door. Today, though the day had really just begun, had brought about yet another tumult of customers. It was beyond him how he and his twin brother, George, had become so popular in Diagon Alley. Just the last year they were students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, less than a year later, they were practically famous. George had even suggested investing some of the gold that Harry had given them as a gift to purchase professional adds and flyers they could hand out. But, the cost of moving photographs was getting quite high, and he had decided they'd wait on that.

"Well, speak of the devils…" George muttered as he came around the counter with a rag in hand, wiping his callused hands. Fred guessed he had been trying to get some of the stinging Wartruckle sap into the canisters for the inventory.

The bell tinkled as two new customers entered, customers who the twins knew very well.

"Harry! Ron!" Fred said as he jumped over the counter where he was supposed to be positioned and ran to his brother and close friend. Giving each a one armed hug, he smiled as they parted. "We were just talking about you!"

Harry noticed how a bit of maturation had happened in the two of them. Not only did they look different, they were not scathingly annoying to their brother, the Prefect of Gryffindor House.

"Good to see you too, guys," Ron said as he smiled back. "Thought we'd come around and see how the two of you were getting along. Really well, by the looks of it."

They were standing in a towering entrance where shelves literally stacked up to the ceiling, crammed with display cases sporting the logo, _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_, emblazoned in a flaming red lining, which perfectly matched their hair.

"Look at this stuff!" Harry muttered as he picked up a bottle of aging droplets.

"Oh – be careful with those!" George said, dropping the rag he had been carrying off at the counter. "Those should only be used twice a week. We've tested. If you don't want to age into a decrepit old woman before you're twenty."

Harry chuckled.

"You guys invented all of this stuff?"

"Darn right, Harry."

"Amazing!"

Two young witches entered the massive store and grinned as they eagerly raced towards a stand supporting Crazy Cremes.

"They always come in at least once a week to get something," Fred muttered as he took out a box from beneath the counter and started spilling stuff onto empty shelves. "Amazing, really."

"Can we look around wherever we want?"

George contemplated this, probably wanting to hide some of their more dangerous experiments, then nodded reluctantly.

"Why not? Just don't touch anything not in a package."

"Oh – wait a second!" Fred said as he stepped over to Harry. "Could I have a word with Harry for just a moment?"

Ron contemplated this one, and then nodded. "Sure. I'll be over here if you guys need me."

Fred waited until Ron had left before he started talking.

"Harry, do you mind if we talk for a moment about something serious?"

Harry couldn't believe it. "Serious? I would have thought you'd be the last person."

"No, really, Harry," he went on. "I've got this feeling that I just can't shake."

Harry's attitude stiffened into a severe counterpart.

"Sure. Okay."

"Good," Fred went on, taking a deep breath before he went on. "I understand that you've had some problems with Dementors lately."

"Dementors?" Harry asked stupidly. "That was a while ago."

"But, still, Harry. I notice these things when they end up in the _Daily Prophet_."

"Wait – that was in the _Prophet_?"

"Yeah. It was. That's why I'm concerned."

Harry shook his head, not believing it.

"That was such a little thing."

"It might have been, but I think you need to be a bit more careful."

"I don't follow."

"I'm talking about your alliance with Draco Malfoy."

Harry was taken back.

"How do you know about that?"

Fred looked over at Ron and didn't even have to answer.

"Ron told you?"

"Not only did he tell me, he informs me that he – too, is pretending to be Malfoy's friend."

"I'm not _pretending_, Fred."

"You mean you actually think you've got a friend in that snake?"

Harry sighed.

"He's changed."

Fred snorted.

"Yeah. Right."

"No…" Harry cut in. "He…he saved my…my life."

Fred dropped the sarcasm.

"Seriously?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, that changes things, doesn't it?" he muttered as Harry picked a box of Flirting Fruits off the shelf to do something with his hands. Finally, Fred picked up his now empty box and leaned closer to the dark-haired boy. "Just be careful, okay?" he muttered in Harry's ear before returning to his spot behind the counter.

A bit shaken, Harry nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah…I'll be…"

Unease had settled over his stomach. He didn't feel much like eating sweets now, or laughing for that matter.

Walking over to Ron, he pretended to be interested in the same display, really bottling feelings of anxiety that he couldn't overcome. His mind that he had worked so hard to empty of responsibility now seemed force-filled, and on the brink of overflowing.


	4. Meet the Family

Chapter Four:

Meet the Family

It felt a bit strange to be sitting in a Muggle home during the evening. Of course, Draco knew there weren't that many differences between his own home and Hermione's besides the lack of magical objects, but still. The atmosphere was different completely. Everything seemed uptight, and he supposed this was due to his presence more than the lack of magic.

Seated at a rather small, round table covered neatly with a net table cloth, complete with vase of flowers set in the center, Draco waited anxiously for Hermione to return. Her seat was set beside him – heaven forbid he would have to sit next to Mr. Granger! The robust man with darker hair and spectacles looked like he would rather be at the edge of the world than sitting beside the blonde-haired boy his daughter was dating. Every so often, Draco would glance over and see that the man's goatee would twitch, making Draco very uncomfortable.

After a few minutes of sitting in the tiny dining room lit warmly by a hanging Tiffany light, Hermione hurried in, smiling warmly at Draco as she took her seat beside him. She was positioned between Draco and her father.

Not long after, Mrs. Granger came scuttling in, carrying a large pot with two oven mitts fixed on her hands. They had polka dots on them, which Draco found amusing. Beneath the tablecloth, he reached his hand out and felt Hermione's.

"Well, here we go." Mrs. Granger muttered as she tried to find a place to set the large pot, which was seeping spurts of steam. Draco hurried to move some plates around the table and Mrs. Granger smiled at him. "Thank-you." she said as she took her seat. Everyone seemed all smiles except for Mr. Granger who looked angry and disconcerted and of course Draco who supposed he looked more nervous than anything.

"Smells delicious!" Hermione said as she let go of Draco's hand and reached for the plates, taking one and passing it around the table. Draco felt odd because this was not the way things went at his own home.

_Should probably stop thinking of it_, he thought bitterly to himself. _It's not really my home any longer._

True, it wasn't. He supposed that half of his possessions were thrown out or burned. Most of it was rubbish, but then again the other half was really dear to him. His photographs of family and friends. His journals he took copious notes in. Those were probably not only burned in the fireplace, but were probably pored over by his parents. Lucius always did want to know what was going on in his son's mind, and now he would surely know what was going on.

Once all the plates were set, Mrs. Granger looked up to her husband who was sitting opposite her.

It took a few seconds for him to catch on and he looked as though he had just awoken from a dream.

"Huh?"

"Will you please cut the roast, dear?" Mrs. Granger implored more than asked.

"Oh…I suppose."

There was too much silence between the four of them, so Mrs. Granger started up conversation.

"So, Draco, you do well in your classes, don't you?"

"Oh – yes," Draco started, not sure how much he should talk but unable to regulate the words spewing out of his mouth. "I love it at Hogwarts, really. Nice school to be at."

"You weren't so keen on saying things like that a year ago." Mr. Granger muttered under his breath, and Draco decided to ignore the comments.

"Draco's in most of my classes," Hermione piped up. "Most of them are really interesting."

"I like Hagrid's now, actually," Draco admitted with a sheepish grin. "Pre-judged it, as all."

"Hagrid's the Giant, right?" Mrs. Granger added, sounding sincerely interested.

"Yes, mum." Hermione said as she added a large portion of roast beef swimming in gravy onto her plate.

Smells of wonderful roasted pork also accompanied the smells coming from the pot and Draco's mouth watered as he spotted the large potatoes and carrots floating in the brew. Fresh rolls were set out on a plate and butter was in a boat not far from reach.

"Everything smells wonderful," Draco added as he took some of the roast pork and cut a portion of it with his fork and knife. Taking it into his mouth, he chewed hungrily and enjoyed the warmth of the taste. "Delicious!"

It really was, and Hermione grinned.

"Mum's an excellent cook. Although I love Hogwarts' food, nothing's as good as the things I have when I'm on Holiday."

Mrs. Granger beamed.

Mr. Granger made a look of disgust as he watched Draco eat.

"Do your parents cook, Draco?" Mrs. Granger asked as she reached for her glass of wine.

Draco shook his head, still chewing some cabbage.

"Not often. Mum usually just has the elves do the cooking. They're good, but it's really bland stuff. Nothing as elaborate as this. They all use zesty-flavored spices to make things taste better, but the food's not really that enticing."

"Oh…" Mrs. Granger muttered in reply. "Well, I'm delighted to have the chance to cook for you. Everyone deserves a good home-cooked meal once in a while. I know when I was younger, my parents always cooked for us."

Hermione was already halfway through her plate and ready to dish more onto it.

"Well, Hermione certainly likes the food!" Draco joked and everyone chuckled, except for Mr. Granger. Mrs. Grange took notice and addressed him.

"Dear – do you have anything to say?"

The table went quiet as Mr. Granger avoided eye contact with everyone. He seemed particularly interested in the food that was swimming on his plate.

"Ahem…" he started, clearing his throat with anticipation. "Well, the fact that my daughter brought home a boyfriend actually took me by surprise, so I hope you'll forgive my lack of…verbiage."

"That's okay," Draco started. "I understand completely that you don't like me. You don't have to, really. I don't mind it at all."

This made Mr. Granger glance up at him and meet his eyes incredulously.

"Excuse me?"

Mrs. Granger got up with a loud ruckus and started talking.

"There's desert to put on the table! I'll be right back!"

Hermione watched her leave and sighed.

"Desert…"

"Mr. Granger, if you don't mind," Draco started confidently. "I've been a fool for half my life. I know you don't think that somebody can change within a year, but I assure you that I have."

"I –"

"So please don't patronize me for things I've done in the past. I really didn't know what I was doing to people. If you'd see what I have for a father…you'd just…you'd understand."

And with that, Draco got up and put his napkin down on the table.

"Excuse me while I go to use the lave."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her father as the sound of Draco's footsteps going up the stairs faded off and the sound of the bathroom door closed loudly.

"Dad, why'd you have to be such an awful – I don't even know what!"

"Hermione, please," Mr. Granger cut in. "If you think that boy really loves you, you're so blind. He hated you for years before now and you think he can just change the way he feels in an instant because he _wants_ to?"

With a sound of indignation, Hermione got up and threw her napkin down on the table.

"You're impossible."

And with that said, she started up the stairs after Draco.


	5. Turn Me Inside Out

Chapter Five:

_Turn Me Inside Out_

_This chapter is for M.A.S. You made me think about my life. I hope I made you think about yours._

_-_superguy

When Harry got up the next morning Ron had already made his bed and left for breakfast. It took Harry some effort to push himself off the cot and over to his pile of clothes, but after a few lazy minutes of stumbling he was fully dressed and heading down the stairs to the kitchen.

Upon reaching the landing the smell of popping bacon and sweet French toast invaded Harry's nose. He took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was happily serving breakfast. Ron was already seated at the long kitchen table and Ginny was as well.

"Good morning, Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley greeted Harry with a frying pan full of delicious home fries. "Come on and take a seat."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley." Harry smiled and took a seat beside Ron. Ron appeared uneasy as Harry started filling his plate.

"You two are still taking me shopping?" Ginny stated more than asked. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Ginny." he forced.

Ginny grabbed the milk and started pouring some in her glass.

"Good. Because I've been saving my money for this."

"And you let her take her time." Mrs. Weasley lectured.

"Yes, Mum." Ron recited in monotone. Harry grinned.

"Harry will keep you in line, won't you, dear?" Mrs. Weasley smiled at Harry.

"Sure, Mrs. Weasley." Harry replied, cutting his pancakes.

"We have you trained well, Harry." she grinned back. "Would you like some more bacon, dear?"

Harry nodded.

"I'll go get some cooking."

Mrs. Weasley turned back towards the kitchen. The three were left alone at the table. It was silent for a moment before Harry started conversation.

"How'd everyone sleep last night?"

Ginny seemed self occupied.

"Not bad."

She tucked her hair behind her ear.

Harry looked up at Ron.

"Ron, how about you?"

Ron looked up.

"Fine." There was a short pause where the tinking of silverware filled the room. "Why?"

Harry blinked and shook his head as if trying to get water out of his ears.

"No reason, I..."

He caught Ron's gaze.

"I just...I've been having strange...dreams, again..."

Ron took a bite of his toast.

"About what?"

Harry thought for a minute. He was going to say, "Dreams about you," but thought better of it.

"Dreams about...friends. In danger."

Ginny still wasn't paying attention. Ron held Harry's gaze a moment longer before looking down at his plate.

"It's just a dream, Harry."

Harry was taken aback by the bluntness of Ron's reply. He should know as well as Harry how important dreams were in the past.

"Don't you think it might be trying to tell me something?"

Ron continued eating.

"Not all dreams give us advice on life, Harry. I'd let it go. Whatever it was, just put it out of your mind."

Harry didn't like the lack of interest Ron was showing, so pressed on.

"The dream was about you."

Ron had been chewing and stopped suddenly, holding Harry's gaze. Ginny was still focused on herself.

"Don't you want to know what happened in the dream?" Harry broke the silence.

Ron looked down before answering.

"No. I'd rather not be paranoid for a while."

He continued eating.

Harry sat back and folded his arms. This was certainly unexpected. In the past Ron and Hermione had always been interested in Harry's dreams.

"Okay," Harry finished. "That's fine."

Ron didn't make eye contact.

"We'd better hurry up. I want to be back at a reasonable time."

Ginny got to her feet.

"Yes, let's go."

Harry placed his fork down and got to his feet to join them.

"Okay."

They all started towards the fireplace. Harry stopped beside Ron who had his pinch of flu powder in hand. Looking over, he held Ron's stare.

"We wouldn't want to waste time."


	6. If Looks Could Kill

Chapter Six:

_If Looks Could Kill_

_This chapter is for Erica. _

-superguy

The living room was pretty comfortable. Draco couldn't help but notice how tidy everything was. He supposed that was due to the fact that during the year the Grangers had no children. Seeing that Hermione was the only child, who else was there to mess up the house?

Hermione took a seat beside Draco. She handed him a mug of hot chocolate. Draco noticed the cartoon tooth emblazoned on the mug.

"Comfortable?" Hermione asked.

Draco nodded after taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

"Mm. It's very nice. Very...tidy."

Hermione laughed.

"That's my parents for you. Being dentists, they're naturally tidy. I guess some of that rubbed off on me. I'm working on breaking away, though."

She took a sip from her mug.

"I still love them, though."

They both looked ahead to the fireplace that was illuminated with flame.

"Good." Draco replied. "That's good. You should love your parents. When you...when you have no one left to turn to...they'll still be there."

He took another sip of his hot chocolate, savoring the sweet taste of it.

"At least," he went on after a minute, "that's how it's supposed to be."

He smiled over at Hermione. Hermione looked at Draco for a minute before settling down beside him, resting her head against him.

"I'm sorry." she whispered.

"Sorry?" Draco replied. "For what?"

"For everything. Things seem so crazy right now. And your parents..."

"Don't worry about my parents. They do what they want. I'm not going to force myself in on them if they don't want me. It's not like I won't be able to live without them."

They both just sat there in silence for a while with the sound of the popping embers filling the room.

After a minute or so, Hermione pressed her lips to Draco's shoulder and silently kissed it through the fabric of his shirt.

"I'm going to get something to eat." she muttered as she got up from the couch. "Do you want anything?"

Draco shook his head.

"Naw. I'm fine."

Hermione smiled and walked out towards the kitchen.

"I'll be right back."

And with that said, Draco was left alone in the living room. It was quiet for a minute or two before the sound of footsteps sounded, heading back to the living room.

Draco looked up, expecting to see Hermione. But it wasn't Hermione who walked into the room and sat down on the armchair.

"Hello, Mr. Granger." Draco started.

Mr. Granger took a sip of his tea and looked straight ahead at the mantle. Draco was surprised when the man started to speak.

"I'm going to be frank with you, Draco. And I'm only going to say this to you once, so listen and listen closely."

Draco sat up and looked directly at Mr. Granger.

"That's my little girl in the kitchen. You can't possibly understand how much she means to me. Don't pretend that there's nothing wrong here, because there's everything wrong here. I know who you are. My summers have been plagued by stories about you. From what I've heard you're just a little puke, and I'll be frank again with you, Draco. I don't like you. I never have liked you, and I don't think I ever will."

Draco just sat there, taking the monologue in. Mr. Granger definitely didn't give Draco a chance to speak.

"I don't know what you did to trick my daughter into liking you, but that's not really what I care about. I don't care how much you say you've changed. I don't care if you're a good person now. What I do care about is my daughter, and I'm looking out for her best interest. And I think that her best interest is to be away from you."

Another pause during which Draco was going to speak up, but Mr. Granger went on once again.

"I'm not giving my daughter up without a fight. And if there is any fight to be fought, I will be the victor."

The whole time Mr. Granger had never looked over at Draco. He took another sip of his tea as Hermione entered the room. Before she could sit back down beside Draco, Mr. Granger got to his feet and left the room.

Hermione settled back down beside Draco with some sugar cookies wrapped in a napkin. She took a bite out of one.

"What was Dad doing out here?" she asked as she chewed the soft cookie.

"Nothing," Draco replied as he put his arm around her. He looked into the dying embers of the fire. "We were just talking."


	7. Pretty In Pink

Chapter Seven:

_Pretty In Pink_

The next day Hermione insisted that Draco go shopping with her. She had apparently been given an allotment of money by her parents for the Christmas holiday, and it was burning a hole in her pocket. Finally Draco was dragged from the house and into the Granger's car.

"I'm so excited!" Hermione exclaimed as they drove through the snow covered neighborhoods towards what Hermione called a "Mall."

"What's so exciting about going shopping?" Draco asked as the car turned onto a large bridge.

"You don't understand because shopping in the Wizarding world isn't the same as in the Muggle world."

Draco didn't understand.

"How so?"

Hermione smiled as they pulled into a large section of parking lots.

"In the Muggle world, ninety percent of shopping is for entertainment. You'll see, don't worry."

They both got out of the car and started walking towards a gigantic assortment of stores that appeared to be connected together.

"We can buy you clothes!" Hermione said excitedly. "Oh – and we have to stop at the book store. There are some books I wanted to pick up."

Draco grinned nervously.

"Hooray," he started sarcastically. "Clothes shopping."

Hermione took his hand, lacing their fingers together.

"This is going to be so much fun!"

Draco thought about this a moment. He realized that this was a side of Hermione that he'd never seen before.

"Since when do you like to go shopping so much?" he started. "You're always so conservative at school."

Hermione chuckled.

"There's really nothing to buy at school. I mean – if I were Ron there'd be plenty to buy. How many sweets are there in the Wizarding world? But, seriously, I don't know how you all survive without movies and television. We definitely have to stop at a movie store."

"Movies?" Draco replied as they walked into the entrance of the Mall. "What are movies?"

Hermione gave Draco's hand a squeeze as she led him on towards a store displaying what looked like rows and rows of rectangular photos.

"This is so funny," Hermione grinned. "It's usually the other way around. I'm usually the one being introduced to things in the Wizarding world. This time it's me telling you about all the new stuff."

Draco didn't really find it amusing; he was usually uncomfortable with new situations – but he forced a smile anyway.

"So, what is a movie then?" he pressed on.

"It's a series of pictures that, when flipped, create a moving image."

Draco glanced over at her as they entered the entertainment store.

"So, it's like a Wizard painting?" Draco shot back, hoping he was sounding intelligent.

"Not exactly," Hermione replied. "Almost like a Wizard painting. Except the movie always goes through the same motions. A Wizard painting is very much free form."

"Oh." Draco let down.

He didn't really quite understand the concept of movies, but he went along with it anyway. The idea was maybe a little interesting to Draco, if he grasped the point.

"How can it be interesting when it's the same thing over and over?"

"Well..." Hermione thought. "I guess it's nice that you know what you're getting every time. Oh – there's something I want to get you! Come over with me!"

She took Draco's hand and tugged him along to a large glass case. Displayed inside the case were a bunch of rectangular objects of all assortment of colors.

"What are these?" Draco muttered as Hermione called over a store clerk.

"Yes, can I help you?" the clerk began.

"May I get one of those iPods, please?"

The man nodded.

"Which color could you like?"

Hermione looked over at Draco.

"Which one? Green?"

Draco still didn't understand.

"What is it, though? What does it do?"

"Just pick one."

Draco glanced down at them. Which one should he get – whatever the thing is?

"I..." Draco stalled. He wanted to be witty today and most of all make Hermione laugh. Perhaps a comical color. "I don't know. Okay, pink."

That did it.

Hermione let out a long laugh as the man brought them over to the front desk.

"Are you serious?" she chuckled, taking his hand.

"What – you don't think pink is my color?" Draco teased back.

"I would have thought green."

Hermione put her money for the item on the counter as they cashed out.

"Hermione, everything I have is green. I thought I'd spice it up a bit."

The man at the counter handed them the item.

"Thank-you," Hermione smiled as they walked out of the store and towards the book store.

"So, what was that thing?" Draco shot up again.

"It's a music player." Hermione replied. "I figured you could be cool when we get back to Hogwarts and show everybody."

Draco put his arm around her as they browsed books. The rest of the afternoon was filled with discovery, as Draco found out who Hermione's favorite authors were, ("Oh – Dickens! He was amazing...and Rowling is also good...") and what Hermione's favorite foods were. Draco was exhausted by the time they were back in the car and on their way back to the Granger's.

"I had a lot of fun." Hermione exclaimed as they pulled into the driveway.

"You also spent a lot of money." Draco chuckled.

"I don't get to spend Muggle money that often," Hermione justified herself.

It was dark out and the lights were on in the house.

"It looks like everyone's still awake." Hermione said as they entered the house. The sound of voices was heard in the living room. The two met Mrs. Granger in the hall.

"Mum! You won't believe how much fun we had!"

She gave her mother a hug and didn't notice until they parted that her mother had a serious expression on her face.

"What's wrong, Mum?"

Mrs. Granger looked both of them in the eye.

"We have company."

Hermione was surprised.

"It's so late. I didn't see a car in the drive."

"No," Mrs. Granger went on. "It's company for Draco."

Hermione looked over at Draco nervously.

"Who'd be...?"

They all made their way into the living room where a woman with sleek blond hair was seated on the couch. She got to her feet when she saw the three enter.

"Draco," she started as she put down the cup of tea in her hand. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Hello, Mother." Draco gulped.


	8. Into Open Arms

Chapter Eight:

_Into Open Arms_

_Again, for M.A.S. Because you can't love someone doesn't mean they can't love you._

-superguy

Everyone was asleep at the Burrow except for two. Harry was awake on a makeshift bed while Ron was also awake on his own. All the lights were off, but Harry knew that Ron wasn't asleep. He could tell that Ron's breathing was irregular and every few minutes Ron would shift his weight between the sheets.

Something was bothering the two of them. If Harry had his wand out he was sure he could sever the tension with a severing charm. It had all began earlier that morning, and Harry still didn't know what was making Ron so moody.

"Ron?" Harry broke the silence.

Ron shifted his weight around so he could see Harry.

"What?"

Harry looked over.

"I knew you weren't asleep."

Ron breathed out heavily.

"I knew you weren't either." he muttered. He shifted his stare to the ceiling and was quiet for a moment before Harry spoke up once more.

"What's going on between us?"

Ron remained silent for a minute or two as if he were thinking about his answer.

"What do you mean?"

Harry folded his arms behind his head and also looked up at the ceiling.

"There's something wrong. I must've done something to piss you off. I just don't know what it is."

"No, Harry," Ron started in reply. "You didn't do something to piss me off. It's a bunch of things, really. Don't worry about it."

That didn't satisfy Harry.

"Ron, come off it." he continued. "You can't lay there and tell me that nothing's wrong. You...you didn't seem at all interested when I told you that I had a dream about you last night."

"You didn't say it was a dream about me.:

"But you insinuated that it was about you in your reply." Harry shot back. "Come on, Ron."

Harry waited for Ron to open up and reply, but the room was silent for a long while. Finally, Harry shifted his weight over and attempted to get comfortable.

"Fine." he muttered angrily. "You want to be angry at me over something, fine."

He continued to shift his weight around on the cot, but it was useless. The fabric caused the posts to creak and squeal with discomfort.

"Harry?" Ron's voice sliced through the creaking. Harry stopped.

"What?" he muttered back irritably.

"Will you..." Ron began softly. "Will you do me a favor?"

Harry didn't really want to, but rolled over to face Ron.

"What do you want?"

There was silence.

"Harry, don't get freaked out or anything, but, will you...come lay with me?"

"What?" Harry shot back. Did he seriously just hear what he thought he heard?

"You seem pretty tense. I thought maybe if you were sleeping on an actual bed, it might help you relax."

Harry just lay there and thought about it for a moment. What if he did do this? He couldn't deny that something in the back of his brain was telling him to get up and walk over to the bed. But another voice was yelling at him to stop and be sensible.

"You can do what you want," Ron muttered as he turned over to face away from Harry. "I'm not making you do anything."

It felt so awkward in the room then. Harry suddenly started to salivate more than usual as if a valve had been turned within him. He had to swallow hard, and that only added to the sinking feeling deep within his gut. Was this his body telling him no? Or should he do it anwyay?

His mind had never felt so full. Everything swarmed around in his head like a twister.

"No..." he started softly. "No, I can't."

"I'm not telling you that you should." Ron replied.

"It would be too weird..."

Would it?

Why was he second guessing himself? This was insane. He should be disgusted at the thought. It wasn't at all natural – and he definitely wasn't. Seriously, he had never even tempted the thought of doing anything.

A deep sigh erupted out of Harry's lungs. Something took over Harry's body then. He heaved himself out of the cot and lumbered over to the bed.

Ron was still facing the wall when Harry picked up the edge of the blanket and got into the bed. Both of them shifted their weight around.

"This is small, Ron."

"No – there's plenty of room. It's a twin."

"Still, not that big."

"I'll stay on my side, then."

"Okay."

Harry faced away from Ron. He didn't want to make it awkward, even though it was already awkward enough. Never in his entire time of being best friends did Harry ever think he would end up in the same bed as Ron. Now, it was happening.

"See?" Ron spoke softly after a minute. He had a passive air about him. "What are you so afraid of?"

Harry breathed out heavily.

"I don't know." he muttered as he tried to get comfortable. "This is just...I've never done this with a guy before."

"We won't do anything you don't want to." Ron replied. "It's all up to you."

Harry gave a sarcastic expression to the room he faced.

"All up to me, huh?"

"It's up to your comfort zone."

"So, I call all the shots?" Harry mused. "So much power."

"You can use it however you want. Isn't that nice?" Ron added. He was silent for a minute before he went on. "I didn't think you'd do it."

"Well, what do I have to be afraid of?" Harry stated, looking over his shoulder.

"Exactly." Ron replied. "You don't have anything to be afraid of. Just relax, Harry. There's nothing wrong about this. We're just sleeping, that's all. Just sleeping."

"That's right." Harry continued. "Nothing more."

Ron turned over so that he was lying on his back. He looked over at Harry.

"Unless you want to do more."

Harry turned over to face Ron.

"What? Do you want to do something?"

"It's all up to you -"

"No, Ron. Do you want to do something?"

Ron looked up at the ceiling. He folded his arms behind his head.

"Only if you wanted to. I did kind of...want to..."

"Ron," Harry cut in finally. "Just spit it out."

Ron glanced over at Harry.

"I wanted someone to hold."

Harry's stomach turned.

Was this really happening? Was this seriously happening? Harry didn't know whether or not he should be jumping out of the bed or if he should be comfortable with it all.

"What does...holding entail?" Harry asked, hoping that he didn't sound nervous.

"Whatever you're comfortable with." Ron replied in the same simple tone.

Harry just lay there. Then, after a minute or two, rolled over onto his side.

"Go ahead."

Ron seemed surprised.

"Seriously?"

Harry nodded.

"Go ahead. If you want to cuddle or hold me or whatever – we're both adults here. I mean, we wouldn't do anything wrong or irresponsible. Just...don't do something stupid, okay?"

Ron paused before replying.

"Okay."

Ron shifted his weight so that he was lying, facing Harry. They were both facing the same direction. Harry was a bit nervous as he felt Ron's arm slide over his shoulders and wrap around him. But it felt all right. There were no demons yelling curses at him, and he was really doing this for Ron, right?

So, everything was fine.

"Harry?" Ron began after a minute. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Harry replied, settling against Ron's weight. "I'm good."

"Good."

They were contentedly silent for a moment before Ron sighed.

"Good night, Harry."

Harry brought his hand up to Ron's arm and returned the embrace.

"Good night, Ron."


	9. What Women Want

Chapter Nine:

_What Women Want_

Narcissa stood there with arms folded across her chest.

"Draco," she started in a tone that could have passed for meek had it not been for the expression of stern motherhood plastered upon the woman's features. Hermione looked over at Draco to see that he was just as surprised as she was to see the mysterious woman in a Muggle home – let alone their presence.

"What are you doing here, Mother?" Draco answered, his stance rooted to the floor and his expression just as stern as hers.

"You ran away!" Narcissa continued as though Draco hadn't spoken. "How could you do this to us?"

"Oh – so this woman actually is your mother and not some crackpot off the street?" Mr. Granger chuckled as he walked past the ensemble to his armchair where he heavily took a seat. "I hope you don't mind if I watch the telle?" he stated more than asked and clicked the remote. A rather obnoxious cartoon program was on and the group tried to talk over the nonsense.

"Mother, I don't think you're seeing this through my perspective."

"Oh, I'm not?" Narcissa replied exasperatedly. "You just give up on your father and me and go off to gal avant with Muggles?"

"Wonderful to hear that term again." Mr. Granger added from the peanut gallery.

"Dad, it's not a derogatory word." Hermione piped up.

"Dear, you're not helping." Mrs. Granger managed.

"I did not _give up_ on you and Father," Draco argued back. "Do you know what he did to me at the Quidditch match?"

"I - " Narcissa started, but Draco cut her off.

"Oh, that's right. You weren't there. Good job."

"Slam." Mr. Granger added from the armchair.

"I will not have you take that tone of voice with me!" Narcissa said sternly. "I am your mother!"

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Actually, I change my mind, Hermione," Mr. Granger cut into the opening. "Draco's not that bad." He looked back at the television and changed the channel. "Wait, just kidding."

"Dad!" Hermione chimed.

"Mother, I've been disowned." Draco stated bluntly. "What makes you think that father would change his mind about any of this? He never changes his mind."

"Men are always the same." Mrs. Granger added to the conversation. "Not to undermine your masculinity, Draco." she added quickly when Draco shot her a look.

"Finally, someone who sees it from my side!" Narcissa exalted as she threw her hands up.

"Will you all please shut up?" Mr. Granger raised his voice from his seat. "Can't a man watch television in peace?" He cranked up the volume a couple notches.

"Dear! Please turn that down!" Mrs. Granger raised over the din of the television.

"Excuse me," Mr. Granger shot back. "Who made the money and bought the television?"

"Dad!" Hermione hollered over the argument.

"Draco, I still cannot believe you!" Narcissa continued, tears brimming in her eyes.

"Mother -" Draco attempted to get out.

Mr Granger cranked up the volume a couple notches.

"Dear!" Mrs. Granger shrieked once again and ripped the remote from his hand.

"Hey!" Mr. Granger bellowed. "Give that back!"

"ENOUGH!"

Hermione turned off the television and stomped between Narcissa and Draco. She stared both of them down in turn.

"This is completely insane!" she stated angrily. "This is supposed to be a pleasant vacation away from the madness of school. I don't feel like I'm on vacation – and I'd rather be at school than listen to any of this! Look at me! Do I look calm or relaxed? No!"

Her hair was wilder than ever as she glared at everyone.

"This is terrible!" she continued. "All I wanted was to show you the clothes I bought, and I can't even freaking do that!"

And with that all staid, Hermione stormed up the stairs and into her room.

"Well," Narcissa added without missing a beat. "She's a fiery one, isn't she? And she's the one you like?"

"Mother!" Draco groaned.

"No, Draco," Narcissa pressed on. "I will not rest until you return home and make amends with your Father for the way you've been acting lately."

Draco could see that the confrontation would get them all nowhere. So, he decided to give his mother what she wanted to hear.

"Fine."

Narcissa was shocked.

"What?"

"I said fine, Mother." Draco went on. "I'll make amends with Father. But you have to let me do it on my own time, all right?"

Narcissa just stood there in disbelief.

"I... All right..." she managed finally. She stepped forward and gave Draco an awkward hug before taking her post at the fireplace, pouch of flu powder in hand. "I suppose I will see you again when I do."

Draco nodded.

"I will come home, Mother."

Narcissa nodded.

The green flames enveloped her figure, and in a flash she was gone.

"Well, that was...pleasant." Mrs. Granger spoke into the silence.

"Dear, you are so dense." Mr. Granger muttered as he stepped out into the kitchen.


End file.
